The crowd was inconvenient, but Garrus had killed in crowds before. He found his perch in a private balcony high above the Citadel lobby. He passed under full view of several public cameras, and several that, he knew from C-Sec experience, weren't so public. It didn't matter; the Illusive Man assured them that surveillance wouldn't be a problem, and with someone as resourceful as him, Garrus could believe it. He brought Shepard back to life, after all.
He automatically lifted his hand to scratch at the bandage covering the right side of his face, then stopped it halfway. Garrus still wasn't sure which he preferred: the searing pain from the rocket explosion, or the incessant itching now that the pain had slowly dulled away. He still hadn't seen the full extent of the damage-but if the chewed-up state of his right mandible was any indication, his face would be horribly scarred for life.
Archangel may be dead, but his maimed spirit will forever haunt you, Lantar.
Shepard had gone into the crowd to meet with Garrus' target; Garrus followed him with his scope, until the human reached a turian sitting alone and hunched over on a bench.
Sidonis.
Garrus took deep, deliberate breaths, his mandibles twitching involuntarily, and tried to steady his hand. It was the first time he'd seen Sidonis since the bastard betrayed him and got his group killed. He slowly rubbed the names etched into his visor: Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Grundan Krul, Melanis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, Weaver. Ten names. Ten lives.
"Humans have a saying: an eye for an eye; a life for a life. Sidonis owes me ten lives, and I aim to collect."
"We have another saying: 'An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.' It's not as popular, sadly."
Shepard didn't approve; Garrus knew that. The Commander was definitely no pacifist, but he was clear in that he preferred not to kill unless necessary. However, Garrus was not seeking approval, or even Shepard's advice this time. Only revenge. Surprisingly, Shepard had kept his objections mostly to himself.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" He'd asked in the car.
"What I want is justice. It isn't right that ten good men are dead while he traipses around the Citadel. You don't have to like it or approve of it. . .but you don't need to. I just need you to help me."
Garrus brought himself back to the present. Shepard found Sidonis and was moving to engage. Garrus steadied his breathing, relaxed his trigger finger, focused on the target. Today, his friends would finally rest.
Even if I don't.
Shepard wasn't entirely sure what to expect when they found Sidonis. From what Garrus told him, he kept imagining something between a cowardly hothead and a vicious murderer.
Whatever he was looking for, he certainly didn't expect this.
"That's him," Garrus said through the comm in his ear. Shepard faced a turian wearing civilian clothes. Even though turian expressions were difficult to read by humans, anyone could tell by looking at him that Sidonis was tired. He sat hunched over in the bench, his three-digit hands shifting between holding up his head and twiddling in his lap.
Alone, unarmed. Hardly seems like a mercenary.
"Lantar Sidonis?" He asked.
The turian jumped as if hit by a jolt of electricity, looking around every which-way. "Don't ever say that name out loud! What do you want?"
He's terrified. Shepard wasn't surprised; after hearing the stories of Archangel and his vigilante group, he'd started to understand Sidonis' caution when going into hiding. And then seeing what Garrus was willing to become to find him. . .I think that's what worries me the most.
"Good," Garrus said, "just step to the side so I can get a clear shot."
"Not just yet," he said back into the earpiece. Sidonis cocked his head at him, uncomprehending.
"Sidonis," Shepard said, "I'm here for a friend. Garrus Vakarian."
"The hell are you doing, Shepard?" Garrus growled into the comm. "Dammit, if he moves, I'm taking the shot."
Sidonis started backing away. "What? I don't know anyone by that name. Leave me alone."
Shepard closed the distance between them and grabbed Sidonis' shoulder. "Listen to me, you idiot. Right now, I'm the only thing standing between you and a hole in your head. Understand?"
The turian's eyes widened and started darting around the area until they came across the vantage point where Garrus waited. "Fuck."
"I want to know what happened on Omega, Sidonis."
The turian buried his head in his hands and shook his head. "I didn't. . .I didn't want this to happen. Any of this. The Blue Suns, they got to me. They. . ." he lifted his eyes, avoiding Shepard's gaze. Turians considered eye contact to be a sign of strength, of worth. Sidonis sighed and began walking toward a balcony. Shepard considered letting him walk, which would allow Garrus to take the shot.
Not yet. He kept pace with the turian until Sidonis leaned on the balcony, peering over the edge. He didn't seem to be aware of Garrus' gun trained on his head anymore. "It doesn't matter," he finally said. "There's no excuse, nothing I can say that would undo what I've done. I can't sleep. I see them every time I close my eyes, accusing me. Food. . .has no taste. My worthless life is all I have left. I wish I died with them."
"You don't deserve to die with them. They were decent, honorable people." Garrus' voice was calm, controlled, but Shepard sensed the fury waiting just behind the curtain. Shepard made his decision and spoke into the comm.
"This isn't right, Garrus."
"Shepard-"
"Look. At. Him. His soul is already dead." Sidonis kept staring over the balcony, either not aware or not caring about the conversation. "Is revenge really worth killing yours?"
"That isn't your decision to make!"
Shepard gritted his teeth. "No, but this is: I'm not moving."
Garrus almost screamed across the lobby.
Damn it! Self-righteous, pontificating, moralistic, STUBBORN asshole! His hands shook so much that, for the first time since boot camp, he couldn't maintain his aim. His vision blurred when he dropped the rifle. Fuck it all, Shepard. I can't believe you would do this to me, after everything I've done for you. His rifle was infamous across the galaxy; as Archangel, he never missed his target, never showed mercy. Now he was rendered completely powerless, by an alien commander he had been through hell with.
He gathered himself and spoke into the comm: "Tell him. . .to go. Before I change my mind." Then he closed the comm channel. He kept watching the two of them. Shepard moved out of the way, said something to Sidonis. Sidonis looked toward Garrus' position.
"I don't know how, but I promise I'll make this up to you, Garrus!" Sidonis yelled.
"GO!" He roared back. People in the crowd stopped and looked up to see who was shouting like a madman.
The figure of Sidonis took off running. Garrus shouldered his rifle and aimed again. He found his target. His trigger finger jerked. . .but he didn't fire. He just watched.
Archangel never showed mercy. So why did Garrus Vakarian care so much about what this human thought of him?
He holstered his rifle on his back and made his way back to the meeting point, scratching his face.
Shepard met Garrus back at the car. He stood as straight as he could, suddenly very aware of how tall Garrus' six-point-six feet was compared to his own six, and locked gazes with the alien's blue eyes.
"I know you want to talk about this," Garrus finally said, keeping the eye contact, "but I can't right now. Can we please just go back to the Normandy?"
Shepard nodded, and they got in the car. Garrus took the backseat, furthest from Shepard, as he drove through air traffic back to the docks. Neither of them spoke; the only sounds came from the whrr of the skycar and the scrtch-scrtch of Garrus scratching at his bandage.
Shepard went along with Garrus because he needed him. Even though their mission was far more important than Garrus' vendetta, or any other personal matter, Shepard knew that they were not likely to survive. He wanted Garrus to be focused on what came ahead, but he also wanted to give his friend closure in case that would no longer be possible. Now, he feared that he ruined the chance for either.
God, I hope I haven't lost him.